Charlie's BaptismCharlie’s baptism was held on Sunday, July 10th, at Sacred Heart Cathedral at 5 pm Mass. Mark and I decided to hold it at 5 pm Mass because we were pretty sure no one in my family would get out of bed for 9:30 am Mass and knew they definitely wouldn’t for 7 am.
The priest who interviewed us insist that we invite as many people as possible to the baptism because it is to celebrate Charlie becoming a member of a community. Since the baptism was planned on a short notice and many of my friends would rather die than go to church, we ended up inviting only our families and my mother’s next door neighbor, Mary. Mary is a cool lady—I’ve practically known her forever. She loves visiting with Charles, so I had to definitely invite her. I knew it would be a big deal for her to come to the baptism since she openly protested the renovations to Sacred heart Cathedral.
My in-laws arrived to the church as we did, about 15 minutes before mass.
About five minutes before Mass, when Fr. Murphy was explaining to Mark and me what would happen during the baptism, Marlene walked in. She stood right in front of Charles and me.
Marlene: What?
Me: Hi to you, too. Jon and Peggy are here. Why don’t you say hi?
Marlene sorta waved at them and took a seat behind them, next to Mary.
As I was holding Charlie, he spit up. His spit did not land on me, nor on him. It landed with a giant “SPLAT” on the stone floor of the cathedral. I was embarrassed. My mother thought this was very funny and laughed. Mark ran to get a rag to clean up the mess as the Mass started.
Charlie was fussy during most of Mass. When it came time for the baptism, Mark, me, Charlie, and the godparents gathered next to the font. Fr. Murphy rushed through most of the ceremony as quickly as possible as Charlie began to crank out. Charlie was almost in full fuss mode when I leaned his head over the font and Fr. Murphy splashed water on the baby’s head. Charlie stopped crying and looked shocked.
We went back to our seats by the altar. Charlie, however, decided he had enough of church and began to fuss. I took him to the vestibule in the back of the church, so I could walk him and hopefully calm him down. From where I was standing, I could see Marlene. Something must have upset her during the offertory, as she started gesticulating wildly to Mary.
At dinner at my house after the ceremony, I found out what happened.
Marlene: (matter-of-factly) Mary and I were protesting, so we didn’t give anything to the collection.
Me: I can see why Mary would protest. What were you protesting?
Marlene: (indignantly) I was just protesting.
Later, I told my husband about this exchange. He was not at the dinner table, as he was putting Charlie to bed.
Me: My mom said she was protesting. What the heck do you think she was protesting?
Mark: She was probably just protesting that she was broke!
Me: Now it all makes sense to me.
Tales from Oompa Loompa LandI told my mother that I wanted to see the new "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" movie. I was hoping that she would offer to take my son for a few hours so I could go, but she didn't. However, she did go off about the finer points of the 1971 version with Gene Wilder.
Mom: What's that kid's name...Jimmy Bucket?
Me: (rolls eyes) NO, it's Charlie Bucket. Hence the title of the movie.
Mom: Oh, yeah. (quiet for a moment) You know what was stupid about that movie? The old people. What kind of person writes a story about old people who stay in a bed all day and they make the kid and the mother work. I think that's terrible. It's scary. What was the grandpa?
Me: Grandpa Joe?
Mom: What a piece of crap! He coulda got out of bed and helped out, but the four of them just stayed in bed all day. Imagine that house! It musta stunk! Could you imagine emptying those people's chamber pots? (pause) I wonder if they had rubber sheets.
Me: They probably didn't have rubber sheets because the Buckets were poor.
Mom: Well, that grandpa coulda got out of bed and worked.
Me: He was sick.
Mom: Well, he sure got his ass out of bed pretty fast when the kid won the ticket. (shaking her head) That poor kid and mother. What kind of sick person would write a terrible story like that?
Bored on the Fourth of JulyMark and I packed up Charlie and went to Marlene's for the Fourth of July. While we were eating, I mentioned to my sister, Katie, that one of her friends called (I still answer the phone at my mom's house when I'm there). Katie rolled her eyes and said that this friend probably wanted to go to the fireworks with her. She also mentioned that the girl is living with someone from Puerto Rico.
Marlene: Illegal or legal?
Me: Illegal or legal what?
Marlene: Is the boyfriend an illegal or legal Puerto Rican?
Me: Mom, Puerto Ricans are not illegal. Puerto Rico is a commonwealth...
Marlene: Hey! I got nothin' against Puerto Ricans. They are good people. They got cultures--
Mark: And that somehow makes them illegal?
Me (to Mark): Do you want to deal with this?
Mark (solemnly): I don't EVEN know where to begin...
We Go Back A Long Way...Some people think my blog is cruel--how can a daughter do such a thing to her mother? After all, your mother brought you into this world, they tell me. Then they go on to ask, what if your son started a blog about you?
Quite frankly, I would be impressed if Charlie started a blog about me. After all, he is only 3 months old.
My "cruelty" towards my mom dates back to a long time ago. About the time I was learning to read--I was about 6 years old--my mom took me to the now-defunct Sibley's department store. Department stores were neat back in those days; there was a lunch counter, a toy section and a candy department. If I was good on our outings to the mall, my mother would let me choose lollipops from the candy department because they were 12 for $1.
I loved choosing the department store lollypops. Now that I was finally able to read, I didn't have to rely on the color of the lollypop to determine it's flavor. With care, I chose my 12 pops according to the signs: blueberry, strawberry, grape, and so on. But there was one flavor I had never heard of.
My mother rushed me along in my selections and then to the elevator. As we stepped into the crowd, I turned to her and asked loudly, "Mommy, what's an 'anus' flavor lollypop?"
My mother turned beet-red. The other elevator passengers stared. "What are you talking about?", she asked me, nervously.
"The lollypop flavors...one said 'anus' flavor. What does 'anus' taste like?"
"Oh," she said, "It's ANISE flavor. ANISE." She said this loud enough so no one had a doubt in his/her mind what was really going on.
"Okay," I told her, "What does anise taste like?"
